Nineteen Years
by Stellata
Summary: House looked away from Sam's smug gaze. "I accepted he wouldn't return my love years ago. I can live with wanting. All I need is for him to be here, whole and happy. I won't let you hurt him." Wilson overhears, and must decide what to do. House/Wilson.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: House and Wilson do not belong to me. To my eternal sadness...

Note: Takes place during 6x18, Knight Fall. Creates an AU.

* * *

"You're a cold-hearted bitch who ripped his heart out. I watched him struggle for years to overcome the damage you did - and there's no way I'm just gonna let you wheel him back in so you can do it all over again."

Sam let out a soft sigh, and shook her head.

"And all this?"

"Phase 2 of getting to know my enemy," House explained shortly.

"You're wrong about me. But I'm glad I don't have to pretend to like you, except when James is standing next to me."

"Same here - only difference is, I'll outlast you."

There was a pause as they both listened for Wilson. When she heard nothing, Sam leaned closer.

"You've been here nineteen years, House," she scoffed. "I'll give you that. But what you don't seem to realize is you'll never have him the way you want him. James will never love you the way he loved me - or the way he could love any woman."

Sam's eyes glinted cruelly.

"Does it hurt? Knowing what you want is available to every attractive woman he meets? You can desire him all you like... But the only place James will ever return your feelings is in your dreams."

House's chest tightened painfully. Sam had reminded him of the harsh truth - he would never have all that he wanted from Wilson. House looked away from Sam's smug gaze.

"You're right, he won't," House said calmly, inwardly wondering how he hadn't strangled her already. "But I accepted he wouldn't return my love years ago. I can live with wanting. All I need is for him to be here, whole and happy. I won't let you hurt him."

It was House's turn to lean in and smirk.

"I've helped him through two more failed marriages after you, and many more affairs. I've only met one woman who deserved his love, and she's dead. You've already lost him once - and that's without me even in the picture. What makes you think you stand a chance now? You had him for two years... I've been here for nineteen."

Sam shut up, her face pale.

"End scene," House said smoothly, and his face shifted into a friendly smile.

Wilson came walking in, a cautious smile on his face.

"Hey," House said, grinning at him.

Sam wrapped an arm around Wilson as he sat down, and he gave her a peculiar look.

"See, you can leave us alone!" She teased. "It's safe."

"Good," Wilson said, his voice distant to House's ears. "Shall we get a movie?"

"Isn't it too late?" Sam asked, glancing at her watch which read 10:20.

"There should be some eleven o'clock films at Star Theatre," Wilson mused. "Good night, House."

"Night, you two have a good time," House waved them off.

* * *

"So, action or romance?" Sam asked, looking at the listings in the newspaper as they drove.

"Neither."

She looked up at the sharpness of Wilson's voice.

"What - James, why are we at my apartment?" Sam asked in surprise.

Wilson parked and got out of the car without saying a word. Confused, Sam followed him.

"James?"

"Don't," Wilson said tersely. "I was fooling myself, Sam. This won't work."

"What?" Sam felt dumbfounded. "I don't understand..."

"I'd forgotten how cruel you are," Wilson spoke quietly, but every word struck her like a blow. "You haven't changed."

"You heard," Sam whispered, her cheeks flushing hot.

"I did," Wilson said, regarding her with disdain. "It's been an illuminating evening. One that we shall never repeat. Goodbye, Sam."

She blinked furiously, and nodded. Sam knew she had lost.

"Goodbye, James," Sam said, as evenly as she could.

She watched Wilson drive away, a sense of emptiness slowly filling her chest.

This time it was entirely her own fault. Sam didn't know when she'd ever get another chance with a man as good as the one she had just lost... for the second time.

* * *

"Wilson!" House looked up in surprise. "You're back so..."

"I won't be seeing her again," Wilson said quietly. "Good night."

House's mouth dropped open. This was too good, he thought in astonishment, surely it wasn't true?

"What happened?" He asked, rising to follow Wilson to his bedroom.

"I realized how little she had changed, and had no wish to have a repeat of twenty years ago," Wilson said simply. "I need some space. Please leave, House."

Strangely enough, House did, and Wilson shut the door gratefully.

* * *

Wilson sat down on his bed and drew in a shaky breath.

His mind was still wrapping around what he had overheard House and Sam saying... Nineteen years of memories washed through his head... But now he knew how House felt, it all made sense on that level as well.

He wondered why it didn't bother him to know that House loved him. Wilson undressed and lay down on top of his covers, thinking.

House had stuck around for nineteen years, in love with him for maybe that long, maybe less. He had admitted he needed Wilson - _here, whole and happy_.

James buried his face in his pillow.

"I need you too," he whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: House and Wilson do not belong to me. To my eternal sadness...

Note: Takes place during 6x18, Knight Fall. Creates an AU.

* * *

The team looked up as House walked in the door.

"Are you… _whistling?_" Chase asked in disbelief.

"You betcha," House said in an eerie mimicry of Sarah Palin, his finger pointed like a gun at Chase.

Foreman sighed, clearly not amused - as usual.

"There wasn't any lead present in his blood work or liver biopsy."

"And his heart rate and BP are getting even more erratic," Taub continued.

"We had to shock it back into rhythm twice during the night," Chase finished.

"And there's something on your desk for you," Thirteen smirked.

With a slight frown, House stepped to his desk while lowering his backpack to the floor.

"What…" He stopped, staring incredulously at the long-stemmed pink rose on his desk.

"Pink roses are meant to convey admiration and appreciation," Taub said absently.

"That a confession?" House snapped, his eyes flashing.

"It was there before we came in," Chase pointed out.

"Can we talk about the patient, not about House's secret admirer?" Foreman scowled.

"Well," House began, picking up the rose and twirling the stem in his hand, "There's only one thing left to do..."

* * *

"What are you doing here?" House demanded, his hands moving to rest on the sides of his costume. "Thirteen…"

"I invited him," Thirteen shrugged, the movement of her cleavage in the Renaissance style bodice distracting both men momentarily. "Since you chose my outfit, I figure I should get to choose Wilson's…"

"What do you think?" Wilson asked with a warm smile. He made a little twirl, and House swallowed quickly. Wilson was wearing tight black pants, a loose, flowing white shirt, and a dark blue vest… It all succeeded in showing off the younger man's strong legs, firm ass, and of course, a tantalizing hint of chest hair.

_ Delicious,_ he thought to himself. _Damn you, Thirteen!_

"It's okay, I guess," House said, rolling his eyes. "Not as good as mine."

Wilson just smiled.

Thirteen looked away, concealing her surprise. She had watched House carefully for a minute, and those few seconds had told her more about House's inner feelings than more than a year working together had done. It wasn't just lust he felt for Wilson - although that much was obvious… It was most definitely something more, to have remained hidden from his best friend for so long…

* * *

"We need to check everything again. You missed something," House had declared once they reached the Renaissance fairgrounds. Thirteen didn't bother getting angry at the slight, instead focused on solving the mystery House had unknowingly presented to her.

Wilson was getting heartily involved in the proceedings, checking every corner, every inch of the campsite.

His method seemed to involve a lot of bending over, Thirteen realized, suddenly suspicious. She could tell House was having a hard time not looking… and a hard time disguising his appreciation of Wilson's costume, given the snugness of his own pants.

"Do you smell that?" House said suddenly.

"Yeah, it's the apothecary shop," Thirteen sighed. "We already…"

But Wilson was already headed off into the shop, humming to himself, with House right behind him.

Thirteen could swear that Wilson knew exactly what effect he was having on House - but how long had he known? What sort of game were the two men playing?

* * *

"You going to spit it out?" House asked Thirteen.

The case was over, and their patient was going to live.

"I told William…" Thirteen spoke slowly. "To stop being an idiot."

House grunted, agreeing.

"Sometimes you don't need to win someone's heart - you just need to ask for it," She ended softly.

House fixed her with a piercing gaze, but said nothing.

"He's made his choice to not go for it," Thirteen finished. "It's not too late for you."

House looked out the window as she left. Worry about how Thirteen had figured it out - that was two women being astonishingly perceptive about his hidden feelings in two days - faded away as he thought her words over carefully.

Thirteen had no idea, House thought wistfully, as he reached for the ibuprofen. Wilson would never… He shuddered at the rejection he knew he would receive if he ever did _just ask._

There was no point in thinking about it again, House thought as he dry swallowed a few ibuprofen. There were other things to do, mysteries to solve…

Like who his mysterious admirer was.

House looked at the two yellow roses he had found on his desk that morning - a day after the appearance of the first pink rose.

Oh yes, House crowed to himself. He would find whoever it was who was trying to mess with his head. There was no way, he thought with conviction, that anyone actually meant what the gifts suggested - not to him.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own House in any way... Or else this would have happened already.

* * *

Chapter 3

"One of you is going to confess!"

Taub blinked, stopping with the cane pointed in his face, just an inch from his nose.

"I wasn't expecting the Spanish Inquisition."

House rolled his eyes, but lowered the cane.

"More flowers, eh?" Chase spied the white roses in the vase on House's desk. "That's how many days in a row now?"

"Eighteen," Thirteen declared, going to make a tick mark on the board. "Eighteen flowers, too, I bet?"

"You still haven't figured it out," Foreman laughed, shaking his head. "You solve medical mysteries every other day - but you can't find someone who's been sneaking into your office every night, just to leave you flowers."

"You know something?" House accused, staring at Foreman.

"If I did, I sure wouldn't tell you," Foreman shrugged.

They all knew it was true. Foreman just liked to see House pissed off.

"Fine." House scowled. "One of you get me a bloody case!"

They jumped up and hurried out.

House practically fell into his chair, and sighed deeply. He couldn't stop thinking about this… problem. Because that's what it was - a problem. Whoever it was, there was no chance of anything happening. House had been hung up on one person for almost nineteen years.

He was going to have to humiliate whoever it was, if he ever hoped for them to lose their ridiculous crush. It always worked like magic. Still, whoever sent him these had some serious feelings - and House felt bad for what he'd have to do.

Until he found out though… He wondered how many days were going to go by before they stopped. Thirty? Fifty? A hundred?

He laughed suddenly at the image of hundreds of flowers flooding the hallways… Patients in wheelchairs slipping every which way, Cuddy falling on her ass, Wilson smiling, picking one up, and sniffing it.

Maybe if he faked a fall when Wilson was nearby, he'd try to catch him, House's eyes shone with the fantasy.

He sighed and closed his eyes, imagining a much less clothed Wilson laying back in a field of flowers, waiting to be made love to -

"House."

His eyes jolted open.

"W - Wilson," House stammered, cursing his imagination for distracting him so.

"I'm not interrupting something, am I?" the oncologist teased.

"Nope," House said brightly, as he stood and walked over to his friend. "Let's get lunch."

"I'm paying?" Wilson asked drily.

"Rhetorical question," House murmured as he led the way.

* * *

The next day, just like every morning, House walked into his office with anticipation.

And stopped dead.

Where were his flowers? They were sometimes on his desk, but as their numbers increased each day, they were usually placed on the table.

"Looking for something?"

House nodded, not looking over at Wilson. Finally, he gave up, and walked over to his friend, who was still in the doorway.

"For those?" Wilson suggested, nodding upwards.

House glanced up, and was startled to see a wreath of mistletoe - with many fresh flowers around it - he'd bet good money that there were nineteen of them.

"Some - "

Whatever House was going to say was cut off as a pair of warm lips covered his own. For a moment, Wilson just stood still, letting House process what was happening.

He'd frozen up, completely unsure of himself.

Then slowly, those soft lips were moving, embracing his own, gently coaxing House's mouth open.

House opened to breathe, hoping he wasn't going to hyperventilate…

Then the tip of Wilson's tongue was flicking across his lips, and _god this was Wilson kissing him_ - House groaned, and Wilson's courage filled him as well, and he was kissing back, unable to go slow.

He'd waited too fucking long - nineteen fucking years. Wilson sighed happily before opening his mouth, and licking again, inviting House into that hot passageway. He needed no further suggestion, but took Wilson's face in his hands as he took possession of his mouth - exploring it to his full content.

Wilson should have known that House was going to take charge as soon as they got started - but it worked out, because it was certainly working out. He was being kissed expertly, pushed back against the frame, feeling rather weak in House's firm grip.

It could have been minutes, or hours, when House deigned to pull away.

He looked sharply at Wilson, who was panting - lips red and swollen, face flushed, and eyes rather glassy.

"It was you? The flowers?" House asked lowly, and Wilson nodded. "Why?"

"I - I wanted you to know that I had thought this out," Wilson explained. "That it wasn't a split second decision. It took me too long to get to this point - but I'm here now, House."

He leaned forward, lips almost touching House's.

"I love you."

The way his words curved around his lips, that soft tone - House had been reading Wilson for years. He was being completely truthful, and there was no way to misinterpret what he'd said.

Wilson waited expectantly, but then House was kissing him, desperately, roughly, as if he could lose Wilson any second.

Some time later, they stood still, foreheads pressed together, arms twined around each other.

House said nothing, but Wilson already knew. House didn't need to say anything.

"Thank you for waiting," Wilson whispered.

House just smiled, and for one ridiculously sentimental moment, rubbed their noses together.

"You're worth waiting a thousand years for."

Someone's pager went off. After a few more seconds of looking into each other's eyes, they glanced down. It was Wilson's pager.

"I have to go," he said regretfully.

"All right," House replied easily.

"See you at home?" Wilson whispered.

"In our bedroom," House said, not a trace of humor in his voice.

Wilson shivered in anticipation. If House could do that to him with kisses on their own, what could he do to him in bed…

"Tonight," he promised.

House squeezed his hand, and let him go.

After a minute, Wilson was out of sight, and House's gaze began to focus on other things for the first time since he'd noticed the mistletoe.

Things - like all the nurses staring. A woman on crutches, looking at him rather… lustfully. Chase, his eyebrows at the roof. And Thirteen, who was taking pictures on her camera phone.

The diagnostician shook his head, but none of it mattered.

House just couldn't stop smiling.

And that scared the onlookers more than anything else could.


End file.
